


Something Sweet and Wonderful

by SKEvans



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Aerith is a gremlin, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Cloud is an idiot, Drinking Games, Drunken Shenanigans, Exes to Lovers, F/M, Partying, Romance, Sexual Content, Trapped In A Closet, Zack is a true friend, angst? i don't know her, everyone is in love with Tifa (that's canon), i say as i laugh at my own jokes, slight jealousy, you can't see me but i'm making finger guns at this turn of events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKEvans/pseuds/SKEvans
Summary: If there’s one thing that cements tonight being the worse night, it’s seeing his ex-girlfriend.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 50
Kudos: 226





	Something Sweet and Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, folks. Welcome to this chaos that wouldn't leave my brain alone. Hope you enjoy!

**—**

**SOMETHING SWEET AND WONDERFUL**

—

Cloud thinks about strangling Zack rather often.

Just last week, he’d felt the impulse after his friend had given a flirty waitress his number. He could use the fun, Zack had said—he could smile and say thank you, too, but no he had to be an ungrateful little shit. It had taken a lot out of Cloud not wrap his hands around his friend’s neck. But he’d reined the urge in, had spoken to the waitress to tell her _sorry, I’m not interested_ ; she’d laughed and ripped the scrap of paper then thrown it away, saying _Don’t worry, I figured from the way you glared at him_. Cloud had sighed and thanked her, and once he’d walked out of the restaurant to join his friend, he’d pointedly ignored Zack’s too-smug-and-too-big grin. Thought it had taken restraint, Cloud had been happy with the resolution; the waitress never called him, and he wouldn’t go to jail for murder. All in all, it had been a good night.

But it’s not the case for all nights. This one in particular is _not_ a good one. It started simply, as most of these terrible plans of Zack’s usually do. They would go to a small gathering ( _it’s not a party_ , Zack had said, _trust me on this_ ) on Friday night—they’d have fun and drink and just have a good time. But of course, once they got there, Cloud realized he would not, in fact, have a good time.

The first clue was the dozens of parked cars and all the people outside. The booming music also did nothing to convince Cloud this was _not_ a party. In fact, everything pointed to this _being_ a fucking party. Cloud had almost turned the car around out of sheer pettiness at having been deceived—but in the end, he’d just parked far enough from the house to make Zack whine about how _there are all those other spaces you could have chosen, man_. It was the thought of a drunk Zack stumbling back to the car that had convinced Cloud to do it, even if that meant he would abstain from drinking to drive them back on the same night. There had been more complaining from his friend at this statement, but Zack is smart enough to know when he’s lost a battle—he’d given in with minimal grumbling.

The second clue only comes later in the night. By then, Cloud is hiding in shadowy corners and in the quietest rooms he can find, always moving so Zack doesn’t find him. He also doesn’t know anyone else at this fake gathering and being the only sober person amongst a crowd of drunk college students actually kinda sucks. But if there’s one thing Cloud will hold on, it’s driving back at the end of the night, so he drinks water and watches the partygoers’ antics out of boredom.

That’s how he recognizes the flirty waitress in the crowd—though the primary reason is her yelling to encourage Zack and another guy to arm-wrestle. Her shouts mix in with others’, but it’s her energy that sets her apart. Cloud sighs when Zack is defeated and yells for a rematch. Time to move on to another room so he can spend whatever time they have left here in relative peace.

Obviously, things never go as he wants them to.

“Cloud! Come here!”

Cloud ignores his friend but does walk a little faster.

“Cloud, damn it!”

Someone jumps on his back, holding on around his neck. Cloud yelps and almost loses his balance at the sudden weight.

“I got him!” a girl yells in his ear, and _of course_ it’s the waitress with too much enthusiasm.

“Good job!”

Cloud shrugs out of the waitress’ grip in time to see Zack and her high-five at their supposed victory. “What the hell?”

Zack’s answer is to grab his arm and pull him towards the table where a scrawny red-head is now competing against the previous winner—and failing miserably, even slapping the table and calling for mercy. “I need you to win.”

“Why would I do that?” Cloud mumbles, digging his feet into the carpet to avoid being dragged. “It’s not like I’m stronger than you.”

“Come on, I’m sure you can do this!” The waitress pulls on his other arm.

The combined strength forces Cloud to advance, and before he knows it, he’s seated at the table before the stoic winner who wears sunglasses. Indoors. At night. Cloud doesn’t even bother to hide his mixture of confusion and exasperation.

Zack drops both hands over his shoulders, leaning his weight on Cloud. “We bet fifty you’d win.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Cloud hisses as he tries to twist around to face his friend.

But Zack makes sure Cloud stays facing his adversary. “Do our friendship honor, Cloud. Win this for me,” he says with too much seriousness. It’s hard to tell if it’s the alcohol talking or just Zack being a dumbass.

Sunglasses-At-Night holds out his arm, ready for another victory. Maybe it’s the unsaid hanging in the air, the _I know I’ll crush you_ aura emanating from the guy, but Cloud feels the urge to prove him wrong. This is another one of these Time-to-strangle-Zack nights, Cloud thinks as he grips his adversary’s hand. As soon as the waitress gives the signal, Sunglasses-At-Night drives his arm down against Cloud’s—but encounters enough resistance to stay into place. Excited shouts ring out, weaving through the music. Cloud doesn’t really hear them, though; all of his focus is on the match and on proving everyone wrong. Sunglasses-At-Night grunts when Cloud brings his arm down with a sudden burst of strength.

There’s a brief moment of silence where Cloud wonders if he really did it, but then noise erupts. Zack screams the loudest at the victory, only equaled by the waitress. He claps Cloud on the back with too much energy.

“Knew you could do it!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Cloud grumbles. He might be secretly pleased at his victory, even if he’ll never admit it.

Zack pulls him out of the chair. “Let’s go, there’s another game over there.”

“You know I don’t like to—and you’re not listening.” Cloud gives up on resisting as his friend walks them into a somewhat quiet room.

“You’re strong, but you’re really not that much fun, are you?”

He startles at the sudden voice next to him, twisting to see the waitress followed them. She smirks at him, right as Zack lets him go. With a giggle, she tugs Zack away, leaning on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear. Cloud knows then, by the evil glint in their eyes, that this really won’t be a good night.

“I think I need the bathroom,” he says in a poor attempt at escaping. He barely has time to turn towards the door that he’s once again thrown into a seat—a couch this time. “Stop pushing me around, fuck.”

Zack and the waitress squeeze in on his right side, pushing him against the armrest. That’s when Cloud notices the other people sitting on the floor and on the other couch. As his eyes sweep the room, they land on someone he knows, and that’s when Cloud feels his heart freeze up. Fuck.

If there’s one thing that cements tonight being the _worse_ night, it’s seeing his ex-girlfriend.

Across from him, on the other couch, Tifa is talking with a guy who is too well-dressed for this kind of party and who keeps smirking with too white teeth. Who wears slacks and an expensive as fuck watch these days, anyway? Cloud is thankful she hasn’t noticed him—he still has a chance at leaving quietly. But he gets distracted as two people come out of what he can only guess is a closet, looking disgruntled at the sudden hoots of laughter.

“Who’s gonna be next, uh?”

The question comes from someone Cloud has never seen in his life but immediately dislikes. He elbows Zack to get his attention while trying to stay hidden from Tifa’s sight, though she hasn’t looked their way so far. “What the hell is this? Are we thirteen?”

“Calm _down_.” Zack elbows him back out of revenge, but the move is clumsy, and he almost knocks the water bottle out of Cloud’s hands. “It’s not like you have to participate. No one will name you.”

“Oh, they’re _naming_ the people playing? Hell no.” Cloud shakes his head; there’s no way he trusts Zack—or the waitress—not to name him. “I did not sign up for this shit.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to—wait, is that Tifa?”

That’s it, Cloud thinks, that’s the signal to get the fuck out of here. He tries to stand up, damned be subtlety, but Zack tugs on his shirt, pulling him back down.

“I’m going to _kill_ you.”

“Bro, that’s her, right? I’m not seeing right.”

Seeing his opportunity, Cloud rushes out to say, “No, it’s not. You’re just drunk.”

“Are you sure?” Zack squints and leans forward as if it would help him make out her features. “Nah, it’s her. You don’t recognize your ex-girlfriend? That’s cold, man.”

The waitress bends forward to look at Cloud; her mischievous grin only spells trouble. “Who’s his ex?”

“You say _one_ fucking word and I—”

“The one over there,” Zack says, ignoring Cloud’s threat. The idiot even points at Tifa. “The cute one.”

“Cute? Be nice. She’s _hot_.”

Zack smirks. “You are absolutely right.”

“Why did you break up with her?” The waitress gasps. “Or did she break up with you?”

Maybe it’s the sensitive nature of the topic, but Cloud has had enough of this unknown waitress and her meddling. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are,” he says. Zack smacks his shoulder, but Cloud disregards him. “Why would I tell you?”

“Oh, he’s being scary.” She lets out a giggle. “There are more polite ways to ask for my name.”

Cloud falls back into the cushions, wishing for them to swallow him. “Whatever.”

“It’s Aerith, by the way.”

“Okay.”

“Wow, is he always this rude?”

Zack chuckles as he ruffles Cloud’s hair, messing it up even more. “Depends on if his ex is here or not.”

“Fuck off,” Cloud bites out, slapping his friend’s hand away.

For once, Zack listens, aware he shouldn’t push too much when it comes to Tifa. Cloud can’t tell if Aerith can read the atmosphere or if Zack somehow lets her know to shut up, but he’s glad when she moves on to another topic. Left alone, Cloud resumes his people-watching, though he avoids look across him. A few minutes pass, and people come out of that damned closet again; Cloud hasn’t played seven minutes in heaven since he was a teen, and even then he tried to avoid it. He looks around again, his gaze unwillingly snagging on Tifa again, who still appears oblivious to his presence. When a short girl call for who’s next again, Cloud sinks further back into the couch. It’s not like he wants to play, anyway. Or make out with anyone present. Not at all. Nope.

“I know! Tifaaaa, it’s your turn!”

Cloud immediately senses the way Zack snaps to attention at the name. Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_.

“Don’t you dare—”

Tifa gets to her feet, annoyance etched in her features, and Aerith catches on—of course, she does, of _fucking_ course. “Cloud can go!” Zack yells at the same time Aerith shouts, “What about Cloud?”

And that’s when Cloud knows tonight is _the_ night where he will commit murder. “I don’t—”

But it’s too late. The short girl jumps on the name, calling for him to get up, and then Zack pulls him out of the couch; Aerith grins and gives him two thumbs-up like she didn’t just screw up his entire evening. Reining in his irritation and smoothing his expression into blankness, Cloud turns to face Tifa.

The first thing he notices is how surprised she looks, like she never expected him to be here. And in a way, he supposes she’s right—if it wasn’t for Zack, he’d be having a quiet, peaceful evening. The second is the oversized flannel shirt she wears to ward off the cold of early summer nights—he didn’t recognize it from across the room, but from up close there is no doubt. That’s his shirt.

“Come on, you two! Tic toc! Don’t think I’m starting the timer until you get in.”

Cloud breaks away from their staring contest and walks for the closet, closing his eyes in exasperation at the shouts and failed attempt at whistling. He just knows the latter is Zack. He moves so Tifa can enter the closet first and then goes inside. The door falls shut behind him, cutting them off from the noise and the music. Though the last thing he wants is to be here with Tifa, Cloud wonders why he didn’t just hide in a closet this whole time—it’s quiet and Zack would never have found him.

He sighs, then turns so he can slide down the door to sit on the carpeted floor. Tifa is sitting, too, not even a meter away. All things considered, it’s a big closet, filled with winter coats; they have enough space to sit without being too close. Then again, she’s _already_ too close, and Cloud doesn’t like it. He really doesn’t.

“Hi,” Tifa says.

“Hi,” he says back. It’s not like there’s anything else to say, right? Right. There’s absolutely nothing to—

“How have you been?”

Damn it.

“Uh, okay.” Cloud clears his throat, looks at the coats surrounding them, at the ceiling, at the boots pushed against the walls. At anywhere but Tifa, really. “You?”

She doesn’t answer at first, and even though he feels curiosity pull at him, making him want to glance at her, he resists. “I’ve been alright,” she says finally.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

Cloud shifts, cracks his knuckles, runs a hand through his hair. “We don’t have to talk.”

“Oh. Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore her when she sounds this sad and disappointed. Still, Cloud doesn’t want to take her in right now—sitting too close and wearing a shirt he thought he’d lost a while ago. Maybe it’s because it’s been six months since they last saw each other, but his heart beats too fast for his taste. There’s no reason to make it worse.

“I’m surprise you’re here,” Tifa says after a minute of silence.

Cloud leans his head back against the door and closes his eyes. “I was tricked.”

“Zack, uh?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t think he knew Rufus.”

“Who?”

“Oh, we’re at Rufus’s house.”

Cloud thinks back on the size of the house—way too big for anyone, clearly belonging to some rich asshole also known as Rufus. His eyes snap open as he recalls the guy sitting close to Tifa, the one who can’t dress and has an expensive watch.

Who the _fuck_ is Rufus?

That’s when he can’t help but glance at her. “He’s a friend of yours?” he asks, uncaring at his lack of discretion.

Tifa hums, tucking some hair behind her ear; her bangs fall down to frame her face anyway, the strands too short to be held back. “Not really? We went on a few dates, but nothing came out of it.”

It’s how she says it so casually that slams into Cloud. But he pushes the sudden hurt down and away—after all, he’s the one who broke up with her. Tifa can date. It’s her life. She can do what she wants. So can he.

But Cloud kinda really wants to strangle Rufus, too. He adds him to the list after Zack and Aerith.

He nods to avoid saying something—he doesn’t trust himself not to blurt out something he’ll regret. Tifa also stays silent after this; she sits with her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. When Cloud checks his phone and sees it has been a little over seven minutes, he stands up, startling her. He would apologize, but he’s just really looking forward to leaving this damned closet. Cloud shows her his phone as a pseudo-explanation, then turns the doorknob. The door doesn’t budge. Frowning, he tries again, but no luck.

On the other side, despite the music and the noise of the party, Cloud hears giggles and a familiar laugh.

“Zack!” He pounds on the door. “Open the fucking door!”

His only answer is more laughter, followed by a girl saying, “I’m rooting for you!”

They can’t be serious, Cloud thinks, they can’t be fucking serious. He twists the doorknob again and swears when nothing happens—the door is locked from the outside. “Who locks people up in a fucking closet!”

He hears movement behind him and tenses, the awareness that he’s now trapped in a closet with his ex-girlfriend now impossible to avoid. With a long exhale, Cloud faces Tifa, who seems a little shy and a little annoyed, but also way too calm for his taste. He doesn’t enjoy being the only one panicking. Not at all. In his chest, his heart drums even faster than before.

“I’m sorry for these idiots,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m sure someone will let us out soon.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m not worried.” Tifa moves closer and brushes past him to try the door. She sighs when it doesn’t budge.

But Cloud is too busy walking at the very end of the closet to pay much attention to what she’s doing. If he could disappear amongst the dozens of winter coats, that would be even better—who even has this many coats, anyway?—but he’ll have to make do with the distance for now. Tifa notices him getting as far from her as possible, but she just stares for a second too long before sitting on the floor once more. Though the last thing he wants is to accept they’re stuck in here, Cloud concedes that standing for who knows how long isn’t any better.

“Is there anyone you can call to get us out?” he asks as he plops down on the carpet. He narrowly avoids sitting on a pair of boots.

“Uh, I don’t have my phone on me. Yuffie took it away so I’d enjoy the party.”

Though this means there’s no one to rescue them, it’s not what Cloud focuses on. “You weren’t having a good time?”

“Not…particularly.” Tifa shakes her head. “Rufus asked me to come, and I said yes because he helped me out for an assignment. I spent most of the night on my phone to avoid him, but Yuffie said I couldn’t do that all night.”

Cloud blinks several times out of confusion. “I thought you went on dates with the guy.” What is he even saying?

“Yeah, I did. I also said nothing came out of it.” This time, when she says it, there’s an undercurrent of frustration; Cloud tenses when she carries on, “Not everyone cuts all ties when things don’t work out.”

It’s an obvious jab at him, and though he knows he shouldn’t take the bait, he can’t stay quiet. “We went on more than a few dates,” he says.

Tifa fixes her stare on his as if daring him to look away like he did before. “Yes, we did.”

It’s easier to ignore her comment than to let his feelings escape from him, so Cloud opts to do just that. And soon, Tifa does the same—they sit in relative silence, waiting to be freed. When almost an hour has gone by, Cloud has had enough. It’s past 2AM, and he wants to _leave_.

“What are you doing?” Tifa asks as he brings his phone to his ear.

“Calling Zack. I’m over this shit.” The call connects, only to immediately go to voicemail. “Fuck him,” Cloud mumbles, hanging up.

“Voicemail?”

“Yeah.” He extends his phone to her. “Call yours or your friend’s so she gets us out of here.”

Tifa nods and takes the phone; he watches as she dials several times, always getting the voicemail. By the fourth try, Cloud is contemplating breaking down the door. He can’t spend more time with Tifa, he just can’t.

“No luck,” she says with a sigh.

By now, a slight frown creases her forehead, betraying her otherwise calm facade. She hands him back his phone, and Cloud drops it on the floor so he doesn’t miss potential messages or calls. They fall into silence again, but he knows it won’t last for long—Tifa’s curiosity will take over soon enough, and that’s when he’ll wish for the world to open up from under him. It takes even less time than he’d anticipated. There’s nothing surprising about this—stuck in close quarters with his ex-girlfriend was always going to be a recipe for disaster.

“Why did Zack lock us in here, Cloud?”

“‘Cause he’s a dick who thinks he’s funny.”

“Zack always did things for a reason,” she says, “or has that changed too?”

Cloud leans his head to the right, just enough to flee her questioning gaze. “Maybe.”

For a moment, Tifa stays quiet, and he thinks he’s in the clear. But then she speaks up again. “You’ve always been such a terrible liar, Cloud.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and reopens them—this is what he’d wanted to avoid.

“You lied when you broke up with me, too.”

“I didn’t lie,” he says, keeping his voice soft.

“So you meant everything you said that night?” Tifa moves so she’s kneeling, like she wants to come closer but changed her mind. “That we weren't heading anywhere? That there was no point in staying together? You didn’t love me anymore? All of those weren’t lies?”

They were—but Cloud doesn’t want to admit it, so he says nothing. There’s something even worse about telling her it was the truth when it wasn’t. But his lack of answer doesn’t deter Tifa; if anything, it fuels her.

“I believed it for a while, you know. But when I got the scholarship offer two months later, I started having doubts. It was strange how I suddenly had no more ties to Midgar, nothing to hold me back from taking it.”

Cloud attempts to loosen his jaw when he feels his teeth grind together.

“How did you find out about the scholarship, Cloud?”

“I didn’t know.” The lie tastes sour on his tongue.

“Stop it!” Tifa’s frown deepens, and sparks of anger light up her gaze. “I know you’re not telling the truth. And I didn’t accept it, just so you know.”

His head snaps up at this, the admission escalating his heartbeat. “Tifa, no. Why would you—” But he shuts his mouth when he catches on the victory in her expression. Shit. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.

“I knew it,” Tifa whispers.

Cloud raises his hands up before him as if to ward her off. “Tifa—”

“You _knew_ I would refuse, so you made me feel like I had no reason to stay.” She rubs her hands over her face, and when she drops them, Cloud flinches at the way she glares at him. “You think the scholarship was what’s best for me?”

“Nibelheim has the best music school—”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb!”

“It was an opportunity for you—”

“ _So_ dumb! I don’t need the fucking scholarship!” Tifa blows out a breath that lifts her bangs away from her face. Her exasperation is palpable in their small, enclosed space. “You are the absolute worst well-meaning idiot.”

“I just wanted what’s best for—Tifa?” Cloud goes rigid as she crawls towards him. “Tifa, what—”

No no no. He’ll cave if she comes too close, he knows he will. But Tifa doesn’t heed his panicked expression, and she only stops once her face is so near that he feels her breath as she whispers, “You’re an idiot. How does it feel to learn you did this for nothing?”

Cloud tries to flee, tries to scoot back, but there’s a wall behind him and Rufus’s stupid winter coats surrounding him. Tifa’s close, she’s way way _way_ too close. And Tifa’s always been beautiful and hot and pretty and all the words in between—and fuck, she’s wearing his flannel shirt, and it fell open to reveal her cropped tank top, and fuck fuck fuck fuck, he’s so weak.

“Tifa—” He hopes her name will serve as a warning, but it comes out raspy and full of want, because now he can’t stop thinking about the past and the way she used to feel against him.

She moves, backing away—and he can’t say if he’s disappointed or angry at himself for falling for this. Tifa shrugs off his flannel shirt and throws it at him. Cloud doesn’t react in time, and it hits him square in the face. He hears movement as he scrambles to remove the fabric covering his eyes—Tifa must have gone back to her corner of the closet, and—

Cloud freezes, and the shirt escapes his grip, dropping to the floor next to him. Tifa didn’t move away—instead, she straddles his lap, holding herself above him so he has to tilt his head back to look at her. And she doesn’t give him time to protest or act—she cups his cheek and leans down to kiss him.

It’s almost strange the way his body responds, like it hasn’t been six months but only a few hours since he last touched her. Cloud lets out a sound close to a whine when she drops her body into his lap. He kisses her back—how could he not, fuck—and wraps his arms around her so she can melt against him. Kissing Tifa, holding her—it feels good, so so good, and maybe a little like coming home. She pulls away but doesn’t go far—there’s no way she could, anyway, not with the way he holds her.

Her lips brush against his as she asks, “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah,” he confesses, his voice hoarse from the sudden onslaught of emotions. “I fucking missed you.”

Tifa dips down to kiss him, and there’s no sweetness to it this time, only a desperate edge he knows must be reflected in his own grip on her waist, his own kisses down her neck. His hands slide against the skin of her midriff, delighting in the way her muscles contract under his touch, then around to her back, over her hips, down to grasp her thighs. Her skirt rode up when she straddled him, and he strokes his thumbs along the exposed skin of her inner thighs.

“Tifa,” he gasps against her mouth, into her skin. Tifa Tifa _Tifa_ —he wonders if he really says her name over and over, or if he just thinks it, too overwhelmed by her presence, her warmth, her softness. He feels his control degenerate and slip away from him. It’s the same for Tifa, or so it seems—the way she kisses him, fierce and longing; the way she tugs on the hair at the base of his skull; the way she sways in his lap.

The sudden absence of noise outside their little world pierces through Cloud’s haze, and he realizes someone must have turned off the music, meaning the party must be over. He doesn’t want to move or leave the closet, not anymore. Still, staying stuck in here until morning isn’t too appealing either.

“People are leaving,” he mumbles. “We should call someone.”

“No.” Tifa drags her blunt nails over his stomach and buries her face into his neck. “I don’t want to leave.”

His hands tighten around her thighs. “We might stay stuck here for a while.”

“I don’t care.” She grabs one of his hands, sliding it higher and higher, under her skirt and past the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, Tifa, you’re—” She kisses him, swallowing his words; when he slips his fingers over her, finding her so wet and so warm, then inside her, Tifa moans in his mouth. “I missed you,” he says again, “I missed this.”

“Me too.” He almost doesn’t hear it—her voice is so breathy, so low. “You hurt me, but I still missed you.”

He stops breathing, stops moving. “Tifa—”

She leans back, placing her hands on his shoulders. For the first time tonight, Cloud looks at her—really looks at her. At the redness of her cheeks that seeps down to her chest, at her glittering eyes, at her teeth digging into her bottom lip, at her hair that melds into the darkness of the closet—and it’s too hard to deny her when she is so undone and she begs him not to stop, to _please don’t stop, please, please, please._ He can’t, anyway; he’s too far gone in the yearning for her body, her soul—for her, just her, always her.

Tifa pants as he drives his fingers faster into her, grinding his hand against her when he slows down. When she falls forward to hide her face into his shoulder, her hands grasping at his shirt, Cloud knows she’s close, and sure enough, she comes suddenly with muted gasps. She muffles her cry into his shirt as he doesn’t stop thrusting into her—this is not enough for him; he wants her to scream and unravel completely. Cloud grips the back of her neck, tugging slightly at the hair there so she tilts her head back and he can stare at her.

“Cloud, don’t stop,” she breathes out, her voice rising into moan on the last word.

He kisses her in answer, biting her lip and drowning into the sweet noises she makes. She’s almost there again, he can feel it in the way she clenches around his fingers—but the sound of a lock jiggling snaps him out of the moment. Cloud barely has the time to drag his hand away from her and to smooth down her skirt as much as is possible before the door opens.

Cloud expected Zack or Aerith to be on the other side. He certainly didn’t expect it to be Rich Asshole Rufus, who freezes in the doorway when he sees who was in the closet. Against him, her face buried in his shirt, Tifa does her best to stifle her pants.

“What are you doing in here?” Disbelief drips down from Rufus’s voice.

Cloud grabs his flannel shirt that had been discarded, handing it to Tifa; her wetness coating his hand doesn’t escape Rufus, whose eyes narrow at the sight. “We got locked in,” Cloud says, helping Tifa shrug on the shirt.

“Locked in?” Rufus repeats slowly, like Cloud is stupid.

“Yes,” Cloud replies just as slowly. “Locked in. Hey, come on, let’s get up,” he murmurs to Tifa.

She clears her throat, glancing up at him with a repressed smile, and stands up; Cloud picks up his phone, pockets it, and follows her, grabbing her hand before walking past a frowning Rufus and out of that damned closet. The room they were in is deserted, the floor littered with empty cups and all kinds of food wrappers.

“Want me to drive you back?”

Tifa squeezes his hand, pulling him forward and towards the entrance of the house. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Cloud isn’t too sure how they get to his car, or even how he drives them out of the residential area and into an empty parking lot where he parks in the most secluded spot he can find. There’s a fog taking over his mind, as if stepping out of that closet muddled his brain. He stares into the shadows of the woods bordering the parking lot, blinking as reality catches up with him, and he realizes that holy fuck, he got his ex-girlfriend off in a fucking closet.

“Tifa, are you okay?” he asks without looking at her.

He hears her shift in the seat. “I’m not sure.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

“But…” Cloud turns towards her then, the determination in her voice compelling him. “I don’t regret this,” she says, leaning closer. “We need to talk, but I think we can make it work again. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice soft with relief, “I think so.”

“Good.” She smiles, and it hits him now how much he missed that smile. “One thing, though.”

“Yeah?”

Tifa startles him when she climbs over the console and into the backseat. “I don’t want to go home.”

As Cloud goes to join, his phone rings; he looks at the caller and declines the call. It’ll serve Zack right not to have a ride back home. Tifa opens her mouth to ask who it was, but he pushes her down on the seat before she can.

There’s still that urgency they shared in the closet, but it’s sweeter, too, as if they realized they’re not on borrowed time. Tifa discards his shirt again, but also shrugs down the straps of her tank top and throws away her bra. She runs her hand through his hair, dragging her nails against his scalp as he dots her chest with nips and kisses, as he slides his fingers into her again; he sets a slower pace this time, curling his fingers to find that spot she likes and pressing his thumb down on her clit. It doesn’t take long for Tifa to come again, not after having been brought so close to the edge earlier. She doesn’t stifle her shout now—there’s no one to hear them, after all.

Cloud sits back on his haunches, staring down at her; her flushed chest heaving with pants; her inner thighs glistering with her release; her hair spread around her, haloing her in darkness. The sight tugs at his heart, and though he’ll never admit it, he might be thankful for Zack and his disaster plans right now. Just a little. As Tifa sits up, gives him a push so he falls back against the door, and unfastens his belt and zipper, he concedes it might be more than just a little. When she wraps her mouth around him, he realizes it might a whole fucking lot.

Tifa sucks on the tip, then slides her tongue on the underside as she takes him deeper. She maintains her balance with one hand while the other strokes him. With a groan, Cloud lets his head knock back against the window, keeping his eyes on her; he holds her hair back as it gets in the way, and he suddenly remembers how she used to mewl when he pulled on her hair a little. He does it without thinking twice about it, and she doesn’t disappoint, moaning around him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “you always liked that.”

She lets him fall out of her mouth and lifts her head to look at him. A groan of satisfaction escapes him as he notes how dazed and pleased she looks. “Only with you. I trust you won’t hurt me,” she adds at his surprised expression. Tifa goes to lower her head again, but he prevents her with his grip on hair and neck.

“I did hurt you, though,” he says, aware this is not the best timing. Still, he can’t stop the words from tumbling out of him. “I’m sorry, I really thought I was doing—oh, _fuck_ ,” he gasps as she frees herself from his hold and takes him in again. “Tifa, I’m trying to—” His voice trails off into a drawn-out moan as she goes as deep as she can, humming around him. “Okay, okay, _fuck_ , fuck, Tifa—I’m gonna—I’m gonna come—”

Tifa releases him, her breathing a little heavier than before, and raises herself up to kiss him; her hand stays wrapped around him, and he groans her name as he comes in it. Even once he’s spent, they don’t stop—deep, harsh kisses fade to slow and feather-light ones, but Tifa still doesn’t back away and he refuses to let go.

“I still love you, you know,” he confesses against her lips. There’s something sweet and wonderful about feeling the way hers curl into a smile before she kisses him once more.

“Yeah,” she whispers back, “I know. I do, too.”

Clouds sweeps her bangs back from her eyes. “Wanna go back?”

“No. I’m good here.” She drops her head on his shoulder, her nose brushing his neck. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Me neither,” he says, the words lost in her hair.

The sky lightens on the horizon, not quite yet dawn, but closer to it than the dead of night. It makes Cloud think of something akin to fulfilled wishes and new beginnings. And he likes that. It’s a good change of pace, to be honest with others and himself.

As he closes his eyes, Cloud decides that, maybe just this once, Zack had a genius idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sk_evans).


End file.
